


maybe just by holding still it'll be there

by writingonpostcards



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Awkwardness, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Musician!Jack, crushing from afar, dancer!Bitty, ineffective-wingman!Shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 03:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: “So, when are you going to ask him out?” Shitty leans by the wall as Jack packs down his instrument.“I don’t even know if he likes men,” Jack points out instead of telling Shitty the truth which isneverbecause every time he even half-thinks about it he gets nervous.





	maybe just by holding still it'll be there

Shitty nudges Jack while he’s transferring his notes onto their updated scores and his crescendo sprawls for three extra bars.

“Looks like that dancer you like made it through auditions,” Shitty tries to whisper to Jack. He’s never quite mastered the ability.

Jack looks to where Shitty is pointing and sees that he’s right. The dancer _is_ here. Jack watches him move through stretches with a few other dancers, his shorts on the short side and his singlet cut low at the sides so Jack can see his musculature even from across the break room.

Jack sighs and goes back to his work.

“Don’t you want to say hello?” Shitty asks.

Jack thinks about walking into the group of dancers and it’s enough to make his palms sweaty. They all seem so confident and outgoing and talkative. He had to walk through them the other week to get to the vending machine and he felt strangely small despite being several inches taller than all of them.

It’s one reason why it’s so strange that Jack has been crushing on one of them, and it never would have happened except that he had a two-minute conversation with the dancer during their audition week and apparently that was enough to put his brain at ease around him. Or maybe it was the open smile, the warm brown eyes and the sincere way the dancer wished him luck for his own audition.

Or the fact that he’s exactly Jack’s type.

\---

Jack pulls the cutlery draw open while his food is in the microwave and sighs. No forks.

“They out of forks again?” a voice asks from behind him.

“Yeah,” Jack replies, shutting the draw. “How’d you know?”

The person laughs. “Isn’t that always the problem in this kitchen?

Jack turns around to agree with them only to have the words freeze in his throat. It’s the dancer he’s been watching over the past week. Smiling at him like they’re in on the same joke. Which they are.

Jack clears his throat. “Uh, yes. Yeah.”

The other guy rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ve just finished with this one,” the dancer says, waving a fork. “Lemme just wash it quickly.”

“That’s alright,” Jack responds immediately, going for polite.

The guy narrows his eyes at him.

“I mean, yes please,” Jack corrects, feeling his cheeks heat. “Sorry. That would be great.”

The dancer smiles. “No problem, honey.”

Thankfully, he’s turned away from Jack by that stage because the unexpected ‘honey’ from his lips in that beautiful voice makes Jack flush even hotter.

\---

“So, when are you going to ask him out?” Shitty leans by the wall as Jack packs down his instrument.

“I don’t even know if he likes men,” Jack points out instead of telling Shitty the truth which is _never_ because every time he even half-thinks about it he gets nervous. “Just because he’s a dancer and he wears a lot of clothes with rainbow detailing, doesn’t mean he’s gay.” Jack was trying to obfuscate but thinks he’s only proving how interested he is to have noticed all that.

“Uh, lots to unpack there. But, bro, it’s not stereotyping if it’s true and I heard him talking about an ex-boyfriend so,” Shitty shrugs. “I don’t think that’s an issue here.”

Jack’s heart does an uncomfortable flip as Shitty confirms the dancer is interested in men and therefore could be, potentially, hypothetically, interested in Jack.

Jack zips his case shut and swings it onto his shoulder, leading Shitty out of the rehearsal room and hopefully away from the conversation.

“So back to the original question…” Shitty says, leading the sentence and letting it go with a sweeping hand gesture.

Jack sighs. It looks like he’s having this conversation after all. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to ask him out.”

“Because you like him,” Shitty confirms, pressing the button for the lift down to the lobby.

“Because I like him.” Jack’s way past the point of trying to deny it to Shitty. “But we’re in a show together. I don’t want it to be weird. I have to see him for the next four months _at least_.”

The lift arrives and Jack and Shitty step in.

“Isn’t this one of those better-to-have-tried moments?” Shitty asks as the doors close.

“Not if I get rejected and I have to see him daily for the _next four months_.”

Shitty groans, startling the people waiting by the lifts as they open at the lobby. “I can’t win this with you, can I?”

“It’s not just that though. It’s…I’m not sure I even could,” Jack confesses.

“You’ve asked people out before.”

“Yeah, but he’s…” Jack shakes his head, stomach already starting to get that butterfly feeling from thinking about the dancer. “He’s—I don’t know. It feels different. Bigger.”

“Bigger,” Shitty repeats slowly.

It’s Jack’s turn to groan. “It’s ridiculous and stalker-y and I don’t like that I feel it.”

“Feel what?” Shitty asks gently.

Jack knows Shitty would never judge Jack for anything he could confess to, so he tells him. “Like we would be _really good_ together.”

Shitty doesn’t say anything but he does swing round in front of Jack to hug him in the middle of the sidewalk.

\---

“Forks again?”

Jack can tell this time that the voice belongs to the dancer. He’s become very attuned to listening for the accent.

“No, it’s the spoons.”

Jack turns around and sure enough, it’s the blond dancer in the kitchen with him.

“Ah. Can’t help this time, then. Sorry. No spoon and no fork this time, either,” he adds, showing Jack his empty palms. His fingers are very long.

“I’ll just use a teaspoon.”

“Probably better than a fork anyway.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, loosing focus for a second as the dancer shifts on his feet and his calf muscles somehow become even more pronounced.

“Hey, I know it’s, like, three weeks into rehearsals now and I feel a little rude for having to ask. But.” The dancer walks over to the corner Jack is in and grabs a mug from the shelf. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Jack.”

Jack steps aside so the guy can reach behind him for the tea bags.

“ _Jack_ ,” he repeats, popping a peppermint teabag into his mug. “I like that. It suits you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Better than ‘tall brass man’…Which is actually kinda embarrassing of me to admit to you, I realise, now that it’s come out of my mouth,” he says, eyes widening.

“It’s alright,” Jack says honestly. He’s pretty happy to know that the dancer has been thinking of him at all.

“I’m Eric, by the way,” he says, holding out his hand to Jack.

Jack shakes it. Eric’s long fingers feel very warm on his skin.

“Not ‘short dancer guy’,” Jack teases, surprising himself with how adequate the near-flirt is.

“Excuse you.” Eric drops his hand. “I’m not short, you’re just taller than average.”

Jack laughs. “Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

Eric narrows his eyes at Jack but somehow, Jack knows that’s part of the joke.

\---

Shitty slaps Jack on the back after rehearsal. “I slipped a present into your bag, bro.”

Jack is immediately worried. “ _Shitty_.”

“Nothing bad. Just some gentle encouragement.”

“Your last ‘gentle encouragement’ was a packed of lube that split open and got all over my practice mute.”

Shitty scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, that wasn’t a great moment for me. But this one is better! Promise. And no potential liquid-based mess.”

Jack isn’t a big fan of the phrasing which leaves the potential for plenty of other kinds of messes. He doesn’t find the ‘present’ until late that night; a printed google search results page which Jack reads two sentences of before throwing in his recycling bin.

\---

“Hi, Jack,” Eric greets him, stepping into the lift. “How’s orchestra going?”

“Uh, well. Good.” Despite talking most days for the past two weeks, Jack still hasn’t gotten oven the initial flair of nerves that happen when Eric gives him any attention.

“That’s great to hear,” Eric says, smiling brightly at Jack.

Jack stares at his mouth a beat too long. He coughs. “And the dancers?” he asks, trying not to sound awkward and like he’s only asking to be polite which is only half-true. The other half is he’s finding it hard to remember how to form sentences because Eric’s still a little flushed from rehearsal, and Jack doesn’t think he’s seem him like this before. He’d certainly remember if he had. Eric’s cheeks are red and his hair is a shade darker with sweat, sitting different across his forehead. He looks really happy.

“It’s going alright actually,” Eric answers, running his fingers through his hair, mussing it up further. “I was a little worried last week because some of the guys were struggling with the mambo section? But we went through the counting about five _hundred_ or so times today. Give or take,” Eric jokes.

The sun is just starting to set when they step outside, the sky streaked with pinks and purples.

“Are you in the carpark?” Eric asks, and Jack pulls his gaze away from the sky.

Eric’s hands are wrapped around the strap of his gym bag, twisting. Jack’s struck again by how slender his fingers are. He’s always doing that; getting distracted by Eric.

“No, I get the train back to mine,” Jack answers.

“Oh. Okay.” Eric’s hands twist on the bag strap some more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jack asks.

Eric nods. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Okay.” Jack waits to see if Eric will add anything but it seems that’s the end of their conversation. He could continue it himself but it’s not a strength for him. He’ll see Eric tomorrow, anyway, and hopefully they’ll talk again. “See you.”

Jack heads to the gate. He’s almost there when he hears someone running behind him, and a hand wraps gently around his arm.

“Jack. Wait.”

Jack turns. Eric’s arm drops from him.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Eric takes a deep breath and twists his fingers together in front of him. “Would you like to get lunch with me sometime? Or coffee, dinner, whatever. Um, as a date?”

Eric drops his hands and smiles hopefully at Jack.

Jack blinks. This is a scenario he hadn’t considered. He’s been caught up in the idea of him asking Eric out, he didn’t even think about it the other way around.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“Jack?” Eric prompts, smile slipping a little.

Jack nods.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” Eric asks with worry, taking a step back.

Jack shakes his head.

“Oh. Alright.” Eric twists his fingers together again. “Well, see, you’re kinda making me worry right now. I know you’re not a big talker, but you’re being very… non-talky.”

“Quiet,” Jack offers.

The corner of Eric’s mouth quirks up. “Or that too, since that’s an actual word.”

"Yes.”

“I know. You don’t have to rub it in that I couldn’t think of it. I was—am—nervous.”

“No. I meant.” Jack takes a step in, making up the distance Eric put between them earlier. “I meant _yes_ I’d like to go on a date with you.”

“Oh! Well that’s…that’s…” A smile spreads across Eric’s face. “That’s…”

“Great?” Jack suggests. “Amazing? Wonderful?”

Eric laughs and shoves playfully at Jack’s chest. Jack smiles down at him, endeared anew.

“Yes, any of those,” Eric agrees.

\---

“So _he_ asked _you_ out?” Shitty confirms.

“For the hundredth time, yes.”

“I wasted all that time workshopping ways you could ask him out!” Shitty whines.

“You googled ‘how to ask a boy to prom’ and printed out the results,” Jack says dryly.

“Whatever,” Shitty shrugs. “I’m just super happy my best bro is dating the cute dancer he’s been pining after.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiles, watching Eric get up from the floor where he’s been stretching with the other dancers and make his way over to them. “So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find this work and more on my [tumblr](http://17piesinseptember.tumblr.com/tagged/mine) or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/writingonpostcards)
> 
> I try and write back to all comments so feel free to leave one. I hope you enjoyed!


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